


On The Rocks

by BlueOnyx



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueOnyx/pseuds/BlueOnyx
Summary: Billy should have kissed him sooner.





	On The Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Em2a](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Em2a) for the beta! <3

 

Billy didn't know how long he simply stayed there, brushing over fossilized bone on autopilot and pretending nothing had happened, trying to ignore how his lips seemed to burn with the lingering memory of contact.

_Why did you have to do that?_ The heat must have overridden his higher reasoning. _Impulsive. Stupid_.

He wasn't usually wrong about people, and when he _knew_ them, saw them day to day—almost never. So how could he have been wrong about Alan? The look on his face as soon as Billy had pulled away, it was like the hints and insinuations, the subtle flirting and the practically quantifiable tension over the past two years. . . didn't happen. Meant nothing. And when Alan had gotten up and walked away without a word, it was a feeling over which Billy would have taken one of his adrenaline-fueled near-misses, any day.

He should have known better, that Alan would never react well to something so sudden, even _if_ Billy weren't misinterpreting the situation entirely. He _did_ know, and with all the practice he had at stopping himself, he still couldn't. Things were going great, and Billy just had to screw it up.

At least the others hadn't seen. The pit they were working in was on the outskirts to the south, and deeper than most, and it'd all happened so fast.

The shadows lengthened, falling across the femur he was uncovering. He stood up and beat the worst of the dust off his knees. He'd made good progress, he would have to show Alan tomorrow. Even if it was in total silence, even if Alan couldn't look at him, they still needed to do their work. They needed to be adults about it, which meant they should talk. It's not like he could take back a kiss, but maybe if Alan gave him a chance to explain, maybe if he could let him know it didn't _have_ to change things if he didn't want it to. . .

Billy walked through the camp, past students on their way to return equipment for the day. He scanned the rest of the work areas. Alan was nowhere in sight.

Maybe he was in his trailer. If he was, Billy knew he probably wouldn't catch him for the rest of the evening. The lights were off, though.

He knocked. No answer.

"Hey," he called out to a sophomore, a straggler from the group coming in from the north side. "Have you seen Dr. Grant around?"

"Yeah. I think he went that way." The kid pointed west over an inlet of lakeshore, toward one of the hills.

Billy knew the spot, on the far side of that hill. Alan sometimes went there to think, to look at the stars. Sometimes Billy went with him.

Daylight and heat were fading fast as Billy strolled around the shore and started up the slope. He was taking his time, delaying the encounter. His stomach fluttered as he grew closer, and his bones seemed to get heavier with each step he took.

At the crest, he was met with the other draw to the summers at the dig. The sunset stretched across the horizon, swathes of purple and pink and blue and gold hues painted around the last half of the sinking sun, the colors reflected brilliantly in the lake below. The world felt enormous, and at the same time, this seemed to be the only place in it. If it had been any other day, he'd have run back for his camera.

He spied Alan in his usual spot, perched on his boulder and watching the show. Billy thought twice about bothering him, but they'd have to talk about it eventually. Might as well do it now.

He made sure his feet stirred up plenty of noise as he climbed down to the area—a compromise between not quite ruining the atmosphere with a shout and not wanting Alan to think he was trying to sneak up on him. It was almost like he was giving Alan the chance to hurry away if he wanted to.

It seemed he didn't. Billy's place next to him was open and waiting, so he settled down on its cool surface.

Minutes went by, of Billy's heart hammering in his chest ( _couldn't_   _Alan hear it?_ ) and waiting for the other shoe to drop, before Alan finally acknowledged his presence—before he even moved a muscle. Billy had never seen him so still.

"It's a funny thing," he said at last, gazing at the horizon. "Time."

Billy felt a speech coming on.

Alan opened his fingers, revealing a raptor claw. He looked down at it and began to feel along the inner edge. "It's been over a hundred million years since this particular shape was part of a living creature. A hundred million years that it was lying there in the dirt, until we came along to give it some kind of meaning again. That much time. . .  I can't fathom it. No human can. We're a blink of an eye, comparatively. Not even that—we're a _fraction_  of a blink."

Alan paused. This wasn't going at all like Billy had expected. Where was the apologetic tone that should have been in Alan's voice, the beginning of a way to let him know that, _no matter how they felt, this could never happen_? A twinge of hope appeared, somewhere between his heart and his stomach.

"A man can sweat his life away, looking at the ground, making mountains out of every hill he sees. He can climb those mountains until he runs out of breath, he could look back down and think he's in the sky, but to someone in space, looking at the Earth in its entirety. . .  well, he's not much higher than when he started. All a man has to do is look up," Alan shifted his attention to the brightest spot now appearing in the wake of dusk, "to see how small he is. How little the universe cares about his problems. How that's both a curse and a gift."

One kiss and Alan was  _philosophizing_. And it must have rattled his brain, because so far it wasn't the best speech Billy had ever heard from him. But by now Billy could see where this was going, and even though he breathed a little easier, his heart wasn't slowing down at all.

"Out of that fraction of a blink, here we are. This narrow window of time that we're allotted, and this is the life we have. These are the people we know, that we share it with. And I. . .  I get to share some of it with you."

With that last sentiment, Alan turned his head to catch Billy's eye.

Billy was lost in the look, too stunned to respond.

Alan continued. "Millions of years separate myself and this fossil. The years that separate us. . ." he trailed off and then breathed deeply, seeming to steel himself. "I'm not saying they're not important—"

His brain caught up. "What _are_ you saying, Alan?"

Alan nodded once, as if conceding the notion that he could be more direct. "We're both adults. We've got, uh, you know—self-determination. For, uh, whatever we're trying to determine ourselves to be, right now."

Billy couldn't believe it. Alan Grant had reasoned himself into permission to act on his feelings. Okay, he _could_ believe it. He decided to add some fuel to the philosophical fire. "It's a miracle that we're here at all, right?"

Alan nodded again. "It is."

He kept going, to see where Alan would draw the line with this type of reasoning. "We've only got one life, might as well do what we want," Billy mused.

Alan picked up on it and gave him a sharp look. Not far at all, as Billy had expected. "That's been used to justify all sorts of stuff."

"Yeah, I know." Billy smiled at him. "And I know what shouldn't be justified, Alan. But in the scheme of things, I think you and I are fine."

Something like relief crossed Alan's face and he smiled back. "We're all right." He pressed his eyes shut for a second and then sighed. "What I mean to say is—I'm glad. I'm glad you're here when I am."

Billy watched, as if in slow motion, Alan grip the raptor claw in his right hand, and with his free left hand, move towards Billy. One of those same hands that Billy had observed carefully, nimbly, _steadily_ digging up incredible creatures millions of years old, reached for his own hand, and it shook a little. Billy felt frozen, hardly believing what he saw, until at last Alan's fingertips brushed against his skin. It sent a jolt through him and he threaded his own fingers through Alan's, closing tightly. Alan's hand was warm and strong with the kind of subtle power that could only be gained through a life of hard use. Billy felt a bit dizzy.

If getting kissed was all it took to make Alan have this epiphany, Billy should have kissed him sooner. And he would have kissed him again, kissed him to be able to find out, this time, the true depth of the feelings that had run like an undercurrent between them for so long.

But Billy was hyper-aware of the other shore across the coulee and how, even as far as they were from it, even as empty as this part of the lake was that evening, there was always a risk. Or if they got lost in the kiss, and a student were to climb over the hill to find them in that moment. . . The last thing he wanted to do was get Alan into any trouble, professionally, which was something else they would need to navigate at some point.

Billy was getting ahead of himself, as usual. He'd have to see where things went from here. Maybe when they got back down to camp, maybe Billy could step into his trailer for just a little while—

Now Alan was shaking his head slowly and Billy's heart skipped a beat before finally Alan let out, in hardly above a whisper, "If I were a better man, Billy. . ."

Billy cracked a grin. "Alan, you're the best man I know."

It was as if Alan were seeing him for the first time, or maybe just in this new light—Alan's eyes met Billy's, his lips parting and a smile starting to form but then forgotten as a look of wonder settled on his face. The expression reminded him of when Alan came across great new finds, or when he pointed out to Billy constellations beyond the crisp Montana skies.

"Well," Alan said, sounding a little breathless. "If you think so." He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of the dig, then his gaze settled back on the last of the sunset. More and more stars were winking into view. "This is going to get complicated."

"Maybe. But some things are worth a little work." Billy felt sure that neither of them wanted to stick around for the rest of the stars to come out, not tonight. He got up from the rock, brushing off his pants with his free hand, and then shifted his grip on Alan's hand to pull him up, too.

Alan went along with it, and gave Billy's hand a squeeze before letting go. "The most important things always are."

 

**______________**

 


End file.
